Scenes from the basement
by SageK
Summary: It's The Odd Couple 2011. This time they're armed.
1. Chapter 1

Over the course of his rather interesting life, Kyle Hobbes had the misfortune to have bunked with all manner of people and most of them irritated him. Surprisingly, Former Father Jack Landry was not one of them. The blonde man was neat, not prone to senseless chatter and didn't get flustered by the occasional appearance of a multitude of large guns and knives.

It was actually kind of amusing. He'd seen Jack open the tiny medicine cabinet that hung over the sink (the shower and toilet were in a side room no bigger than a closet), peer inside, then slowly close the mirror. He took a breath before turning to Hobbes and asking, "Grenades in the medicine cabinet? Really?"

He shrugged and smirked. "Why not?"

Jack shook his head, but Hobbes saw the smile pulling up the corner of the other man's mouth. "So, if I try to clean the bathroom, am I going to find more in the toilet tank?"

"Nah," Hobbes replied, turning back to the surveillance camera he was trying to wire a longer lasting battery into. "There's a S&W Magnum in there."

Clearly thinking Hobbes was joking, Jack laughed, then, as realization hit, he blinked. "Oh," he said, glancing towards the bathroom before shrugging it off. "Good to know."

Ash Hobbes continued his work, he heard Jack moving around the small kitchen area and, after a minute, the smell of strong coffee filled the air. Smirking, he wondered if Jack had seen the box of C4 he kept behind the coffee filters.

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	2. Chapter 2

"Put down the Bible, Padre, we're going out."

Jack couldn't help but feel a little afraid when that sentence spilled out of Kyle Hobbes's mouth. Though they had been getting along surprisingly well since Jack had begun staying with him (the fact that Jack had attacked the place with bleach and the walls no longer had suspicious looking mold on them might have had something to do with the mercenary's good mood), something about the way Hobbes said 'going out' set of warning signals in Jack's head.

It didn't help that Sid and Chad were also there, grinning. That meant they were in on a plan that Jack wasn't aware of. A plan that didn't include Erica.

They were going to do something stupid, weren't they?

Placing his Bible on the tiny table beside his cot, Jack looked at the three men warily. "Where are we going?"

"Bar," Hobbes replied smoothly, but, from the glances his back up dancers exchanged, clearly there was something else afoot.

Pointing to a large crate, Jack said, "You've got enough booze in there to give Keith Richards _and _Charlie Sheen alcohol poisoning. It's right in there with the AK's."

Hobbes hadn't expected a fight, so he frowned and Sid said, "It'll be fun! It's…."

"A karaoke bar!" Chad interrupted, elbowing the scientist in the side. Hobbes just heaved an annoyed sigh.

Dear God, they were really bad liars. Still, Jack figured they were going to go do something idiotic, so he'd better tag along to be the adult supervision.

Someone had to be willing to swallow their pride and call for help when the other shoe inevitably fell.

"I don't believe a word of that," he told then, but rose and grabbed his jacket. "But I suppose I'm up for getting out of her for a while."

The smirks should have told him he was making a poor decision.

Twenty minutes later, Jack found himself standing in a parking lot, feet planted and hanging on to a lamp post for dear life. "Seriously! You brought me to a….a…."

"It's a strip club….but a classy one!" Hobbes assured him, looking like he was considering trying to join Sid, who was trying to subtley (and futilely) push Jack towards the club doors. "Come on now, you're not a priest anymore. Live a little."

Even before he'd been a priest, this sort of place had not been Jack's style.

"I never really saw the appeal."

Hobbes sighed, Chad gave him a dubious look and Sid quit the annoying shoving to say, "Did you like, skip over a few chapters in the Guy Handbook? You know, the ones that say a guy must take any opportunity presented to him to stare at boobs? Especially naked ones."

Giving the younger man a sour look, Jack intoned, "They erase those chapters from your memory in seminary and replace them with psalms."

For an amusing moment, Sid, Chad and Hobbes all blinked, like they were considering whether or not Jack was telling the truth. Of course, Hobbes shook his head first and proceeded to pry Jack's fingers off of the post. "Nice try," he commented dryly.

"Think of it as a bonding experience," Chad offered. "A shared outing to foster a sense of camaraderie."

"Or think of it this way," Hobbes said gleefully, "I know some of the girls here. They do private shows. You go in with us tonight and I promise none of them will ever pop into the basement for a surprise visit."

Jack wondered if this was some strange sort of punishment for past sins. God had to be feeling giddy if it was. Because, really, look at his life. A defrocked priest, fighting against alien invasion, living with a mercenary who was threatening him with surprise stripper attacks.

Heaving a sigh of his own, Jack said, "All right."

It was the lesser of two evils.

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	3. Chapter 3

Tromping down the stairs into the Fifth Column HQ, Erica Evans was surprised to find Sid and Chad huddled over by Sid's computer, trying to be subtle as they peered over the top, watching Jack and Hobbes work.

Both men sat on stools by the large table, each wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Hobbes in his usual black on black ensemble and Jack in blue denim and white cotton.

It seemed that the two of them were dismantling, cleaning, oiling and rebuilding the weapons Hobbes felt the need to keep on hand.

Clearly, he felt the need to have an impressive armory close by.

Creeping up behind Sid and Chad, Erica whispered, "Why are we staring?"

"It's like watching two universes merging into a whole new world of scary," Sid breathed in response.

Chad nodded. "We're used to seeing Hobbes playing with guns, but how often do you see a priest field strip an automatic weapon?"

"Every day. In Bizarro Land!" Sid mocked.

"We can hear you," Hobbes said without looking.

"Not a priest anymore," Jack added, snapping the outer casing of an M9 back into place.

Huh. Looked like everyone's assumptions about the two of them driving each other nuts and one of them finally snapping had been way off the mark. They actually seemed to be getting along.

"This is even weirder than finding out that Jack's catnip to strippers," Sid muttered.

"I think he convinced three of them to go back to college," Chad said, but Eric was still busy processing Sid's comment.

"Do I even want to know about the strippers?" she asked, unsure whether she did or not.

Jack's shoulders tensed and she saw the back of his neck turn pink.

It was Hobbes who responded. "No."

The menfolk had bonded. Apparently, there were strippers involved.

She didn't know why she found that prospect more than a little unsettling.

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

"The Clash?"

Hobbes looked over at Jack, who had stopped…well, Hobbes thought he might have attempting to clean out the inside of the tiny oven, but the mercenary didn't understand how a paint scraper and a blowtorch could be useful in such a task.

Whatever he was doing, he stopped to comment on the song coming out of the speakers on Hobbes's computer. From the tone, he didn't sound mocking or pleased, merely curious. "Surprised you know them," Hobbes teased, then went back to soldering some wires. "My uncle took me to see them, back in the day."

"That must have been something to see."

"Back before all of today's auto tuning," Hobbes agreed. Then a random question filtered through his brain and he chuckled, "So, been to any concerts lately?"

Jack snickered into the oven. "Sure. 1990. Jimmy Buffett."

That was a surprise. "You're kidding me." Somehow, he didn't picture Jack as a Parrothead, passing along a joint and singing along with Margarittaville. "That just seems…I really don't know. Go with some mates?"

"Oh, no," Jack said, now…yeah, now he was using a chisel and hammer on the gunk in the oven. "I went with my brother and his family. Molly was five or six. Hearing her sing along was a bit surreal. Still is."

Jimmy Buffett concerts for a five year old. That kid had to be a mess. "Modern day hippie?"

"Something like that," Jack replied, and Hobbes could hear the smirk in his voice when he continued, "She does make the _best _brownies though…and what the hell spilled in here? Cement?"

"No idea," Hobbes replied and he was telling the truth. He would have come up with a sarcastic answer, but his brain was still stuck on the fact that a priest - yeah, yeah, he knew it was former priest, but the man read his bible daily, said prayers and had a cross by his bed - had just implied a relative of his made good hash brownies. That was the sort of information that deserved a good mulling over. "There's more to you then you let on, isn't there, Padre."

Pausing his war on the oven, Jack glanced over at him and said, "I think that can be said for all of us."

Wasn't that the truth.

* * *

Gotta share the Jimmy Buffett love. His was the first concert mom and dad ever took me too. I was 2. Have no memory of it, but there is photographic evidence. When I got older, I'd buy tickets so we could see him at the Cape Cod Melody tent every summer…ah, that place has fond memories…Like the time mom snuck into a Peter, Paul and Mary concert and Daddy and I waited in the parking lot until security kicked her out. Good times.

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	5. Chapter 5

"What the hell are you eating?"

Jack looked up at Hobbes, who had just returned to the basement from…whatever it was that he did when he went out. From how familiar he was with the young ladies at the strip club, he assumed the man must spend good bit of time there.

Swallowing the spoonful that was in his mouth, the former priest replied, "My lunch."

"But what is it?"

"Cottage cheese, dried cranberries and granola. Why?" Jack was mystified by the other man's odd interest in his lunch.

"It looks bloody disgusting…and what's wrong with a hot dog? Cottage cheese and granola…who eats that?" Hobbes sounded genuinely mystified by Jack's choice in foods.

Stirring the spoon around the bowl, Jack gave the other man a wry look. "A hot dog? Other than the nitrates, MSG and mystery meat…nothing."

Hobbes was shaking his head sadly and giving him a disappointed look. "Men do not eat cottage cheese."

"Really?" Jack asked, tossing a thumb at the small cabinet of foods. "So, your idea of man food is Ramen Noodles and microwavable hot wings?"

"And beer…at least tell me that's beer you're drinking," Hobbes said, a note of hope in his voice.

Raising the dark bottle to his lips, Jack shook his head. "Sorry, Root Beer."

He laughed at the disgruntled sound that Hobbes made and ignored the pointed glare as the mercenary popped open a beer of his own.

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	6. Chapter 6

Since Jack had moved into Kyle's basement/lair, the mercenary had learned a few unexpected things about the former priest. The fact that the man was something of a neat freak wasn't too odd, but the fact that the man knew his guns, had…eccentric taste in music and a relative that made hash brownies…that was a shock.

Still, Kyle had no idea what sort of life the man had outside the Fifth Column or the church. Which was why his ears perked up when the man answered his phone in Spanish.

"Hola, Miguel…Que paso?…Donde estas?…Voy a estar allí en 20 minutos."

With that, he hung up the phone and stooped to pull a black messenger type bag out of his canvas duffle. Stuffing his phone into his pocket, he paused and retrieved his gun, tucking it into his belt before looking over at Hobbes and saying, "See you later."

"Hold up, Padre," Kyle said, hopping to his feet. "Where are you headed off to? Armed."

Jack frowned. "One of my parishioners needs my help. He lives in a bad neighborhood."

Of course Jack would rush of to help some idiot. If he got himself killed Erica would blame Kyle. "Want some back up."

"If I say no, are you gonna follow me anyway?"

"Yeah."

"Try not to get us shot."

* * *

They ended up in a bad neighborhood. Then a worse neighborhood. The one that made Kyle uncomfortable. There had been at least three gunshots within hearing distance in the last 10 minutes. Lovely.

Jack moved at a brisk pace, giving a few nods of acknowledgement to people they passed but not slowing down. Abandoned storefront, liquor store, pawn shop, abandoned store….wonderful neighborhood.

When Jack took a left into an alley, Hobbes sighed, thinking this couldn't get worse. That was before the former priest climbed onto a dumpster and jumped, catching the hanging rungs of a fire ladder that was so rusted his weight didn't even make it slide down an inch. Instead, Jack climbed, hand over hand until he got his footing, up the side of the building.

"You could have mentioned this," Hobbes grunted as he began following him up the ladder.

"You wanted to come."

After clambering onto the roof, Jack began crossing to the next building, carefully traversing the planks of wood that spanned the distance between the buildings. Once there, Hobbes was thrilled to see him open the old roof access door and descend into the condemned building.

The 3 guns waiting for them gave Hobbes pause, but Jack simply said, "Es un amigo. Bajen las armas y me muestran mi paciente."

Huh.

So this was what their ex-priest did in his off hours. Went urban exploring in order to lend first aid to wounded gang bangers. Honestly, the man had more layers than an onion. A very strange onion.

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